


Conversation with a Hitman

by dreambastion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Backstory, Dark, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreambastion/pseuds/dreambastion
Summary: Eames wants to be with Arthur, Arthur has his reasons for saying no.Wherein there is a very different backstory than what is usually seen for Arthur.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the movie Interview With a Hitman - you will recognize this in the story if you've seen the movie, although adjustments have been made.
> 
> This was written as a one-shot, but I won't say there will never be more. The idea is embedded very firmly in my brain right now and I may expand the 'verse later.

Eames leaned against a column, pretending to read the paper in his hand while keeping watch on Arthur. He waited until he saw which plane Arthur was boarding - Amsterdam - and then ran through a mental list.

Arthur always took a minimum of two flights to get where he wanted to go, usually changing passports between flights. He knew that when Arthur started his hopscotch of flights going to Europe, then his end destination was typically somewhere in Europe, too. Eames deduced that likely, Arthur was headed to his flat in Berlin - he always went there or Sydney after a particularly grueling job, and inception had definitely surpassed the grueling mark and went straight into FUBAR territory.

Eames booked a flight to Prague, figuring he could catch another flight into Berlin once he got there.

The next night he was in Berlin. He waited until it was fully dark outside, then walked to Arthur’s building, slipped up the back stairs and to Arthur’s flat. The hall was quiet except for his light knock on the door.

He waited, listening for any movement on the other side of the door, but heard nothing until the door swung open… and he was staring down the barrel of Arthur’s gun. He held his hands up in surrender.

“You really don’t need that, darling,” he said softly.

“I don’t know that,” Arthur replied evenly.

“I only have one gun on me, under my left arm. Feel free to take it and pat me down,” Eames offered, for once without any innuendo lacing his tone.

Arthur quickly took his weapon and insured there weren’t any others. He motioned with his gun for Eames to come in, and pointed to an arm chair across the room. Eames quickly settled into it while Arthur sat down in another chair across from him, his gun still trained steadily on Eames.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asked, his tone politely conversational.

“To see you.”

“Why?” Arthur asked again.

“Because I’m tired of this cat and mouse game we’re playing with each other. I’ve flirted and flattered and pulled your metaphorical pigtails, and it’s gotten me nowhere. So I’m trying the direct approach,” Eames said.

“So you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“It will never happen,” Arthur said.

“Why not? I know you’re attracted to me. Don’t try to lie and say you aren’t, because I’ll call bloody bollocks on that one,” Eames replied.

“I am attracted to you,” Arthur admitted.

“Then why are we dancing around each other, still, after years?” Eames asked.

When Arthur didn’t reply, Eames added, “I just want to try, Arthur.”

It was the earnestness in Eames' expression that cracked the shell over Arthur’s heart enough to consider that maybe, finally, it was time to lay it all bare and see what came of it.

“Hold out your hand, palm up,” he said and Eames complied without question. Arthur let two fingers rest lightly on the underside of Eames’ wrist and confirmed that his pulse was jackrabbiting against his skin, the staccato rhythm all Arthur needed to know Eames was being honest in his desperation. (He had learned long ago that while Eames always had himself under control when projecting the image he _wanted_ people to see, when he was truly being himself, that control wasn’t so steady)

Arthur let go of Eames’ wrist and motioned for him to lean back in his chair.  
  
“I’m going to tell you a story, one that should help you understand why I am how I am,” Arthur said.

“Are you going to put down the gun?”

“No.”

Eames nodded slightly in response and folded his hands in his lap.

***

_I grew up on the poor side of Chicago. I was a bit of a late bloomer, so I was picked on a lot. Between that and a bastard father who liked to beat my mom, I saw plenty growing up that made me determined to put myself in a position where people wouldn’t fuck with me anymore. I saw my father get beat down one day by a man named Victor. Victor worked for the local crime family, collecting debts and other soldier work. He was always so calm and collected - I wanted to be like him._

_So I went to his apartment one night, walked right in on one of his poker games, and told him I wanted a job. He thought I wanted to work off my father’s debts, but as far as I was concerned, my father could rot in hell, and I said as much._

_He must have been impressed with my nerve, because he laughed and told me he would give me a try-out. He gave me some pocket money and sent me on my way. I was ten years old._

_A few weeks later I was working for him, moving drugs between dealers, collecting money, small time stuff. I kept at it, impressed him, and he took me under his wing, became my mentor._

_A few years later, I made my first kill. Or I should say kills. I was sent to collect some money, but the man didn’t want to take me seriously because of my age. I shot him, then I shot his wife. I had the gun sighted on their son when Victor came in and stopped me._

***

“Would you have killed him?” Eames interrupted. Arthur doesn’t hesitate in his answer.  
  
“No. If he had been one of the local bullies I wouldn’t have thought twice. I hated those little pricks for how they had treated me before I started working for the family. But he wasn’t like that. He was quiet and small for his age - like I had been just a few short years before.”

“Fuck, Arthur… thirteen years old,” Eames said quietly, and his gaze flicked to the steady hand still pointing a gun at him.

Eames had always assumed Arthur came up through the military, and that was why he was so good in a fight, weapons or no. But Arthur had learned much earlier, which in retrospect, explained why it seemed so natural for him.

He focused back on Arthur when he began to speak again.

***

_They had to move me then, get me out of the area. They sent Victor and I to another branch of the family in New York._

_I grew up working with the men there, and by the time I reached twenty, I was one of their top shooters._

_We were still Michael’s boys, but since he was back in Chicago, we worked mainly with his son, Frankie, once he was old enough._

_Frankie was… a problem. Never thought before acting, causing more harm than good. I forget how many messes I cleaned up for him. But the worst mess… well, no matter how well you clean stuff like that up, it doesn’t stay hidden._

_We were working a deal with a semi-rival family. Frankie and the other guy, David, who happened to be the son of their crime boss. Victor and I were there, Frankie started mouthing off, next thing I know someone fired, shot Frankie in the shoulder._

_I reacted, shot the others, killing David in the process. Killing another crime boss’ son… even though he shot Frankie first, that wasn’t going to go over well. We cleaned it up, but word got out anyway._

_Michael would never turn on his own son, so he offered me as the sacrifice for retribution. He sent Victor to do it, but I’d had a feeling it was going to come to that, so I was ready._

_I had to kill him, Victor. Neither of us wanted to hurt each other, he’d been like a father to me. But it had to be done._

_I dumped a second body in there as a decoy and burned my house to the ground. Everyone thought I was dead, and I disappeared to Miami._

***

Arthur paused and looked at Eames, expecting to see at least distaste, if not outright horror in his expression, but he found only concern and a hint of pity.

“It was him or me,” Arthur said.

“That doesn’t make it any easier when you’re the one pulling the trigger on someone you care about,” Eames replied. Arthur cocked his head, noting something in Eames’ voice that made him think Eames knew that first hand. He didn’t ask, though - that could be a tale for another time.

***

_So I went to Miami, laid low a while, then started paying attention to the local crime organizations, trying to find something I could use to get a foot in the door._

_I caught wind of an informant the police had hidden away that one of the families was looking for, without any luck._

_I tracked him down and took him straight to the crime boss as way of introduction. It was enough to impress him, although his second didn’t care for it. He was sure I was another mole. Andrew, the boss, he gave me another job to prove myself - take out the cop heading up the unit against them. He wanted it done quietly, something that wouldn’t draw attention to them._

_I used liquid nicotine slipped in his coffee at a cafe. Heart failure. Andrew was very impressed… right up until his second pulled a gun and tried to shoot us. Apparently he was working with the cops to get Andrew out of the way so he could take over._

_He offered me the job as his lieutenant, but I couldn’t be sure how much the cops had heard about me from the other guy, so I turned it down. Andrew understood, paid me for what I had done so far and let me go with a promise to return the favor if I ever needed anything._

_I stayed in Miami for a while, trying to decide my next move, and that’s when I met him._

_William._

_I was reading the paper at the coffee shop one morning and he sat down across from me and smiled. I was a little shocked at his forwardness, but he pointed out that it was the only empty seat and he hoped I didn’t mind._

_I told him it was fine, and didn’t bother to mention the gun I had in my lap, pointed at him._

_He was friendly, chatting while he had his coffee and pastry. He left and I didn’t think anything else of it until he appeared in front of me again a few days later. This time it wasn’t the only empty seat, but I didn’t point that out to him._

_He was attractive, something I rarely let myself notice. Being gay is not something you admit to where I grew up, so I just didn’t bother to date anyone, instead focusing on my work._

***

“Had you ever been with anyone?” Eames asked.

“One night stands, never a relationship.”

Eames looked thoughtful at this, but motioned for Arthur to continue.

***

_It became a regular meeting, two or three times a week for coffee, then lunch, then dinner. A month later, we were practically living together. It was good, at first, everything easy and happy._

_Then he started asking questions about my work, and he didn’t like that I was so evasive. He threatened to leave and I finally gave in and told him what I did for a living. I expected him to be shocked, appalled, but instead he handed me a list of names a week later._

_Turned out it was people that he wanted dead. He’d grown up in the foster system, been abused and neglected. The names on the list were the worst of the offenders._

_I loved him… at that point I would have tried to give him the moon to keep him happy._

_I started working my way through the list. Somehow I drew attention to myself, because some old friends from New York and Chicago showed up, and they weren’t there for brunch._

_Short version is that they found out I was alive and tried to finish the job. They didn’t, of course. I went to Chicago to visit Michael. Before I killed him, and his son Frankie, I found out that they had tracked me down because of a video they were sent in the mail._

_I watched it… it was of me killing one of William’s targets. No one but William could have filmed it._

***

“He sold you out,” Eames said tightly, his fingers clenched in anger.

“He did.”

“Why?”

“I’m getting to that…”

***

_I went back to Miami, back to William, to find out why.  But before I went home, I paid a visit to Andrew, to call in the favor he owed._

_William didn’t waste any time. He shot me when I walked in the door. While I was sitting on the floor, bleeding out, he admitted that he had watched me kill his parents, he was that small scared boy from so many years before. He blamed me and Michael for the childhood he had in foster care. So he manipulated me into killing his abusers and Michael, leaving my death for last._

***

"Did you kill him?" Eames asked.

Arthur shook his head.

"I let him have his vengeance."

“You faked your death… again.”

“Yes. Body armor, fake blood, drugs to slow my heart-rate… and an EMT who was on Andrew’s payroll.”

“And you ran again.”

“Buried myself off the grid for a while, then had some minor plastic surgery done, just enough to make me not look like me.”

“New identities?”

Arthur nodded.

“So Arthur isn’t your name?”

“It is now.”

“Then what?”

“I put out feelers, looking for a new line of work, hoping to find something where my skills would come in handy. I heard rumors of shared dreams, and made my way to the Cobbs. I formed a friendship with them first, got them comfortable enough to let me in on what they did.” Arthur paused, watching Eames, then said, “You know the rest from there.”

“I understand you so much more than I did before, but I still have to ask… Why does this mean you can’t be with me?” Eames said.

“Both times I’ve let myself care about someone - Victor as a mentor, William as a lover - they’ve killed me. Is it really so surprising that I would be hesitant to go down that path again?”

“I could have sold you out or killed you a hundred times over by now, Arthur.”

“You could be playing a long con.”

“The only thing you have that I want is you.”

Arthur was silent, considering. He looked down at his gun, still held firmly in his hand, aimed at Eames, safety off. It would take a simple slide of his finger to rest it on the trigger, a gentle pull…

Arthur looked up. Eames was still, quiet, watching him without fear, without recrimination, only desire in his gaze.

Arthur flicked the safety and laid the gun on the nearest table. Eames’ smile was so blindingly bright it would have rivaled the sun, and Arthur fought the answering smile that tugged at his own lips. He took a deep breath and then said, “Ok.”


End file.
